Tongue On The Blade
by applythepressure
Summary: He shared a look with his band mates and he knew they were thinking the same exact thing as he was. He got off the couch and walked right up to her, still drunk on her singing that last line to him, he knew it had to be for him from the way that she looked at him, that he dared to lean close to her ear to whisper what they, including her, all knew. "Welcome to the band."
1. Chapter 1

A/N: Yet another idea which won't leave me alone, so might as well write it down. I dedicate this story to all the authors who participated in the third AHS fic exchange, especially **venom with love** who wrote Leave It All Behind for me. She is a genius and my gift is a beautiful masterpiece; seriously, she will be getting my firstborn. And of course, give it up for **jandjsalmon** who was the mod for the exchange and continues to be our amazing, fearless leader.

This story is AU (c'mon, you all know how I love my AUs) – Tate and Violet are both alive in present time. Tate plays in a band and Violet auditions to be their singer. The song she sings for her audition is Peggy Lee's "Why Don't You Do Right?" I love Who Framed Roger Rabbit.

_**Tongue On The Blade **_

"Why do I have to be here?"

Travis, ever the patient one of their little ragtag band, winced before giving the same spiel he gave Tate two hours ago when they first started auditioning girls for their recently vacated spot of singer. He knew he shouldn't bitch, since it is his fault their last singer left, but after dozens of girls painfully warbling and screeching their way through Top 40 bullshit songs, he was getting pessimistic that they would find anyone with pipes that rivaled his newly minted ex-girlfriend's.

"C'mon, Tate, you're our lead guitarist. And more importantly, you're part of this band, and we have to do this all together."

Travis nods his head towards their drummer, Gabe, who gives Tate a look that clearly showed his exasperation.

"If you just shut your trap, we'd be done already. It's your complaining that is slowing this audition down."

Tate huffed back at Gabe, running his hand through his hair and rubbing his temples to try to ease the steadily growing migraine behind his eyes. He and Gabe weren't really friends, more like rivals who could put aside their differences for their mutual love of music. He probably also didn't win any points in Gabe's book when he and Chloe started dating despite Gabe's obvious crush on her. He felt like he should have felt bad, what with Bro Code and all, but seriously, the only move Gabe was able to put on her was staring at her from afar with starry eyes and Tate didn't believe in the ideal of courtly love. He didn't feel like he should apologize for actually having the courage to get up the balls to ask Chloe out, but apparently Gabe thought so, which made for a lot of angry looks and awkward practices. He was quite positive that Gabe indulged in some serious schadenfraude when he and Chloe broke up spectacularly at the end of practice one day, complete with screaming, tears, and, of course, the necessary door slamming, glass shattering exit of the rejected woman. Basically she was getting just way too needy, and jealous that he had the gall to talk to some hot, blonde fan of theirs for a while after a gig. If Tate hated anything, it was drama, and he didn't have the patience to put up with her growing insecurities. He needed a woman who wouldn't get up all in a huff because he refused to stop acknowledging the obvious fact that there were other attractive women in the world. He was sure Gabe was ready and waiting to scoop the wounded Chloe up in his arms, but to his delight she started dating the quarterback of the football team almost immediately after. He was also sure that her cheer squad finally breathed a sigh of relief that she was out of her rebel "boy band singer" phase, and back dating the stereotypically right men that she should be as head cheerleader.

Ever since then, he and Gabe were mostly able to keep the tension to a minimum, but there still were times that they really rubbed each other the wrong way, which is why he was eternally grateful for their bassist and resident peacekeeper Travis.

He looked at his watch and saw that it was already a half-hour past when the audition was supposed to end, which elicited a low groan of frustration. He was fucking tired and all he wanted to do was go home, crack open a beer, and maybe compose a song or two.

Travis looks over at him warily and he sighs, dismissively waving his hand at him.

"Fine, bring in the last girl. Let's pray she doesn't sound like a dying crow like the last one."

"Already here. And I appreciate your vote of confidence."

He whipped his head up to see a petite girl materialize out of the shadows of the garage and walk right up to the microphone on the stage they usually practice on. She was wearing a long dress and a large cardigan despite the heat, long straight blonde falling softly around her shoulders. She met his gaze and cocked her head, daring him to dispute her calling out on his shitty attitude. She raised her eyebrows when he gulped down the retort that was on his lips.

Travis nervously fiddled with his notebook and Gabe elbowed him in the ribs, which earned him a mean little laugh from her. She flipped her hair back and put her hands on her hips while she waited for him to recover, but thankfully Travis interrupted.

"So you are…?"

"Violet. Just moved to this shithole of a town. I heard about the audition from some fake blonde bimbos at school, and figured why the hell not."

Gabe shot her a smile, and Tate suddenly felt jealous for some reason when she returned it.

"Do you have any prior experience?"

"I sang a bit back in Boston. Coffee shops, a couple gigs."

He was now irrationally angry that her attention was on Gabe and he just blurted out the first thing that came to his mind because he wanted her focused on him.

"How good are you?"

Her smile fell into a tight-lipped line as her eyes shifted back to him, flashing dangerously, and it was like the wind had gotten knocked out of him.

Who _was_ this girl?

"Good enough to get numbers from guys more famous than you."

He sucked in a sharp breath, suddenly ready to go out and beat the crap out of those guys for even daring to ask for her number, and before he got to demand who she was talking about, which would have made him look like even more of an asshole, Travis hurriedly jumped in.

"Okay, let's see what you got."

"My pleasure."

Travis pushed play on the stereo and instead of some autotuned fluffy bubblegum pop or emo-screamo angst, Tate was shocked to hear the sounds of a piano, jazzy, seductive, and totally different. He felt like he was in a speakeasy of the 20s and the only thing missing was his highball. He looked up at Violet, and found her caressing the microphone, swaying sensually, eyes closed, and he knew that look because that was how he got when he was composing – everything else had faded away, and the only thing that existed for her was the music.

And then she sang.

"You had plenty money in 1922.

You let other women make a fool of you.

Why don't you do right like some other man do?

Get outta here, get me some money too."

He fell back against the couch, completely blown away.

Her voice was incredible.

He couldn't take his eyes off of her, the way her lips were almost kissing the microphone, the way her hips were swaying back and forth, the way her hands snapped along with the beat.

Suddenly her eyes snapped open and she looked right at him, eyes ablaze, and he felt mesmerized, utterly captivated by her, and that fierce gaze made him feel like she was singing the final line especially to him, challenging him personally with the last seductive question of the song.

"Why don't you do right like some other man do?"

After she finished, no one said anything.

He glanced over at both Travis and Gabe and he was sure both of them had their mouths hanging open.

She laughed, and that sound shocked them all back to reality.

"So what do you think, boys? Did I make the cut?"

Tate couldn't help but snort at her question. Did she make the cut? She fucking blew it out of the water.

He shared a look with his band mates and he knew they were thinking the same exact thing as he was. He got off the couch and walked right up to her, still drunk on her singing that last line to him, he knew it had to be for him from the way that she looked at him, that he dared to lean close to her ear to whisper what they, including her, all knew.

"Welcome to the band."

* * *

A/N: Short, but oh so good (I hope). Thoughts?


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: I'm back! I really like this chapter, sassy Violet comes out to play! Heads up on the language.

_**Tongue On The Blade**_

"Okay, guys, that's a wrap. Good job."

It was the end of their first practice since Violet joined the band, and it would be an understatement to say it had gone well. She killed every single song they went over, only needing one or two tries before she had memorized the lyrics. Tate couldn't help but stare at her as she sang, her face scrunched up as she belted out pure, raw emotion, her hair flailing around her face as she danced to the beat. She was like a force of nature. He was mesmerized.

Unfortunately, so was Gabe.

He was putting his guitar away when he saw Gabe approach her as she was sitting in one of the comfy chairs that surrounded their makeshift stage, and jealousy immediately reared its ugly head and all he could picture was bashing that fucker's face in and relishing in the sounds of his bones being crushed to bits.

"So, Violet, when did you start singing? You're a natural."

She gave a little laugh, and it was all Tate could do not to stomp over there and throw Gabe out of the garage window. She should be paying attention to _him_, _he_ should be the one making her laugh, not some loser who had never got up the courage to ask out a girl in his life.

"Oh, please, you're too cute."

What? What did she just say?

Jealous rage.

That was the only name of the emotion that accurately described the intense gut-churning, bile-ridden feeling in his stomach, the electricity that hummed down his arm muscles, just aching to strangle Gabe's goofy smile right off his face. Tate slammed down the top of his guitar case, which was loud enough to elicit a glance from the both of them, and he could detect a hint of challenge from Gabe's narrowed eyes, but from hers, he couldn't discern what she thought of his obvious reaction and that killed him even more.

"I don't really remember when I started. My father always used to say I sang before I talked. I knew I was decent, but I guess I didn't know how good I really was until my old music teacher heard me singing in the auditorium by myself one day. I was just doing homework, and suddenly there was Mr. Montgomery begging me to join the choir."

She gave another little laugh, and Tate couldn't help but notice that even her laughs were musical, like the light airiness of bells.

"So I did, but I didn't really fit in with the others. No one knew what to make of me, this little grunge girl who loved Nirvana and didn't know all the words to Oklahoma! Some girls were threatened by me since my voice was so different and I had had no training. I mean, singing was their whole life, something they had dedicated hours and hours of lessons and practice and money to perfect, it was their whole identity, and here was me who hadn't done any of that and I was the one getting the solos. Leah, she was the top singer before I came, and she fucking hated my guts. She and her friends jumped me one day after practice."

She sighed and pulled her hair back from her forehead, and both he and Gabe sucked in a sharp breath from the still-healing, angry red slash just under her hairline. Tate wanted to hurt these girls who had hurt her. No one hurts her and gets away with it.

"So what happened after?"

Tate didn't even know he had spoken until she looked straight at him, eyes unreadable.

"I burned her hand with my cigarette and spit in her face. She didn't like that much."

She looked downward and Tate saw a hint of a sadistic smile, and he knew they were just perfect for each other.

"I stuck it out as best as I could after that. I found solace in singing at our local coffee shop. The owner, Larry, was a pretty cool guy and let me sing there every Friday evening. Word got around about me, and his business perked up, so he even hired me to sing Saturday and Sunday, all day. I loved every second of it."

She sighed sadly.

"Then my mom had a miscarriage and my asshole of a father cheated on her with one of his students. We moved here shortly after."

She looked up to see both of their shocked faces, and laughed nervously.

"Wow, this just got really depressing. And I'm sorry, Gabe, I just subjected you to my whole life story."

Gabe put his hand on her arm, and Tate wanted to saw it off, how dare you touch her, you stupid oaf, she is mine –

"Please don't be sorry, Violet. If anything, I'm sorry all that happened to you. It sounds like a really shitty time."

"Well, you know, what doesn't kill you makes you stronger. But thanks."

"You're a part of the band now, Violet. We're always here for you."

She smiled at him warmly, and Tate never wanted more than anything to be the one receiving her smile.

"Thanks. And please, call me Vi. Violet sounds way too old."

Gabe chuckled before pulling his hand away.

"Okay, Vi. If you want, Travis and I are going to get some dinner at the local burger joint. You wanna come?"

She quickly glanced over at Tate, no doubt wondering why he hadn't been invited, before answering.

"That sounds like a fun time, but I actually need to finish unpacking. My mom has been yelling at me because all my boxes are still in the hallway. Next time, though."

"Okay, well, if you change your mind, here is my number and I'll text you directions."

After reciting his number to her, he slung his bag over his shoulder and headed out the door.

She sighed after the door had closed and curled up into the chair, pulling out a notebook and pen and writing something down before looking up at him and rolling her eyes at his angry stare still fixed on Gabe's retreat.

"You're really terrible at being subtle, you know."

His head snapped back to her direction.

"What?"

"Don't pretend you don't know what I'm talking about. You wanted to rip his throat out."

Fuck, she was smart. Play it cool, Tate, she cannot know how bad you've already got it for her, she can't know about the monster inside, just be cool –

"How –?"

She slammed her notebook shut and gave him a withering look.

"_Don't_ insult me."

She hopped up off the chair and walked over to him, hands on her hips, eyes flashing up at him.

"I know what a death stare is. I've received many of them. And I want you to know right here, right now, that whatever drama there is between the two of you better leave me the hell out of it."

He started to reply, but she held out her hand to silence him.

"I don't want to know what happened. I, quite frankly, don't give a shit. I'm not stupid, and I will not be a part in your pissing contest. Either you man the fuck up and work it out with him or if you insist on continuing to be a huge douchebag, which unfortunately I suspect you will, you leave me out of it. All of it. Are we clear?"

Feeling completely gobsmacked by her fiery demand, he could only nod his assent, he had no choice, though he knew he couldn't leave her out of it. He can't, not now, not ever. She was involved the moment she came in to audition and sang that line to him.

"Good, now leave."

She stomped back to her chair, took out her notebook, and started furiously writing, refusing to acknowledge his presence.

He struggled to find his voice, he couldn't just leave her there without doing or saying anything, but his feet were on autopilot and he soon found himself outside the garage, guitar case in hand, trying to figure out how he got there and how this little pixie of a girl could so thoroughly unman him with just her words.

* * *

A/N: On a roll! Reviews are always appreciated and loved!


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: And I am back, everyone. To the reviewer that said she wished that this story would be updated more, I wish I could update more too, but real life (aka, grad school) loves getting in the way of my Violate obsession. I will try to update this as quickly and as often as I can, but sometimes there is literally nothing I can do. Chordata is the phylum to which all animals that have a backbone belong to. Sorry, I just had to include a nerdy scientific reference. The song is "Only To Haunt You" by The Von Bondies. It is perfect for Violate and a nice shout out to canon.

_**Tongue On The Blade**_

In the following week since Violet had made it very clear that she wanted nothing to do with his drama, it was only natural and completely predictable that he found himself obsessing about her even more.

Her hair swaying when she walked, her lips puckering when she sang, her eyes flashing dangerously at him when she told him off made him wish he could make her eyes flash in a different way, make her lips quiver for a different reason.

He knew that he was falling down the rabbit hole so far and fast, but he couldn't find it within himself to care enough to even try to slow his descent. He knew he had a few screws loose – all those therapists he saw as a kid could attest to that – and he would fully admit to himself that he had lost himself in some violent fantasies not particularly long ago. He couldn't deny that he hadn't thought about killing people sometimes, reveling in their blood on his hands, knowing that he was the one with the power to grant or take away life. However, he also couldn't deny that his thoughts about Violet were becoming more enticing and enjoyable than his violent ones had ever been. The fact that she had a mean streak in her – and he had a feeling that he would find that streak to be as dark as his own, a kindred spirit, one that had as many dirty, shameful secrets as his – made it even harder to follow her request and damn near impossible not to beat Gabe to a bloody pulp every time he would talk to her, which was becoming more and more often.

He wanted to shout at her every time she graced Gabe with a smile or laugh after practice. How could she not know? How could she ignore it? Ignore him?

Gabe would never satisfy her. He was pure, cookie-cutter nice guy, could barely be considered a member of _Chordata_ since he was so spineless. She would grow bored of him, grow resentful of his inability to take control and make decisions, grow hateful of his stubborn refusal to be anything but so goddamn nice. She was fire, beautiful but dangerous to touch, and he was a wet dishrag. He would never be able to handle her. He would never challenge her.

Gabe would be the towel smothering her, but Tate would be the fuel to her fire.

She belonged with him.

He just had to make her see it.

* * *

"Okay, gang, good practice. Now I wanted to talk to you guys about something."

Travis waved them all over to the couch, and he saw Violet shoot Gabe a puzzled look.

"So as you all know, I have been in contact with the guy at The Murder House."

Tate sucked in a sharp breath. The Murder House was the biggest concert venue around – everyone who played there eventually got big. If they got a gig there, it would be huge for them.

"The Murder House? You have got to be kidding. That's where Cobain had his first show!"

She looked so excited he couldn't help smiling, though Gabe sliding his hand on top of hers threatened to turn his grin into a snarl. Thankfully Travis continued before Tate could do anything to spoil the mood.

"Yes, that would be the one. The guy, Hugo, was pretty cool. I pitched our act to him and he seemed pretty excited about it. He told me that he needed to talk it over with his boss and that he would get back to me as soon as possible."

Travis took a deep breath and looked each of them in the eye, the hint of a small smile on his lips.

"I think we have a good shot of playing there."

"No fucking way!"

Tate laughed as she jumped up and hugged Travis so hard he literally almost fell over. She let go of him and turned around, beaming at everyone, seemingly forgetting to give him her normal cold stare.

"I know I'm still learning, but I am willing to do whatever it takes to make sure we're ready for this. I will make you guys proud."

Travis clamped his hand down on her shoulder.

"I know you will. You're going to take us places, Violet."

She grinned, and Tate couldn't help but get swept away in her infectious happiness.

"Get ready for a wild ride, then."

* * *

Violet had insisted that they practiced one more song before they left and he was more than happy to oblige her since it meant he could spend more time in her presence. But now it was late, and Travis and Gabe had already left, the garage relatively dark with night falling outside. He was about to head out the door before he heard her singing. He turned to see her facing away from him, singing towards the white drab wall, seemingly oblivious to his presence.

"Rifle me

Just don't hold me

Blood depends

Make portraits of me

Won't you stay a little longer?

You'll find pain where most find pleasure."

He crept back towards the couch and sat down silently, mesmerized by her and only vaguely aware of the fact that she might not like it that he was blatantly invading her assumed privacy.

"Whoa, only to haunt you

Whoa, only to haunt you

Whoa, only to haunt you

It's true, it's you."

She turned around to face him, but her eyes were still closed and he prayed that she wouldn't open them and stop, because he didn't think he would survive if she stopped.

"She's not honest

The maddest one

Makes her kill when she needs to run

She don't mean it

She's good for the start

Begs and pleads when I break her heart."

She keeps going, still oblivious to him, and the lyrics of the song seemed to eerily echo him, her, and them together.

"Kill for me

Just adore me

Revel in these words who sold me

The night dressed in silence

Silence fills these thoughts with violence."

He still is glued to her, watching her face scrunch up in concentration as she belts out the last lines and he knew that she was singing about herself.

"She's the baddest one

Only to haunt you

Maddest one

Only to haunt you

Baddest one

Only to haunt you

It's true, it's you

Only to haunt you."

If she only knew how true that already was.

She slowly opens her eyes, and she looks dazed, as if she was in a trance, but then she saw him and her eyes snapped back into focus, welling up in fury at finding out that she was not alone. He knew that she was probably angry at letting herself be that vulnerable around him with no one else around, even though she didn't know he was there.

"What the hell are you doing?"

Her harsh tone still caught him a bit off guard and he just automatically said what he thought.

"Listening to your beautiful voice."

She snorted at his compliment, and he couldn't help but blush at the obvious romantic response he gave her.

"More like eavesdropping. You had no right."

"I'm sorry."

She rolled her eyes at his apology.

"Lying won't do you any favors either."

He picked at his jeans, not brave enough to come out and say that no, he wasn't sorry at all, but smart enough not to repeat his earlier fake apology and risk her getting even more annoyed with him.

She sighed as she went to go get her stuff, and his eyes followed her hungrily, trying to memorize every detail about her, the way she walked, the curve of her legs, her tiny waist, the way her back arched as she leaned down to grab her backpack.

"Stop staring at me."

How did she –?

"I wasn't –"

"Don't even think about lying to me, Tate."

She said his name. He didn't care that she was angry, that he was probably going to be verbally emasculated by her for the second time in as many weeks, none of that mattered. She had said his name.

And if she said his name, he must have at least some effect on her.

"Do you take me for a fool? I know your kind. I know how you operate, all smooth and suave. And it won't work on me. I'm not some screaming, slutty fan who can be seduced by your rocker hair and the fact that you're a guitarist. You probably are used to having panties dropped at the snap of your fingers just because you know how to strum a few chords."

"Vi –"

"No. You don't have the right to call me that. You don't know me. You think you know me, but you know _nothing_ about me."

She stomped across the garage and slammed the door shut, the force rattling the windowpanes.

He just stood there, listening to her car rev to life and speeding off into the night, but he couldn't help the smile that slowly crept on his face because he did find out something about her – that she wasn't as unaffected by him as she claimed to be.

* * *

A/N: Poor Tate, getting verbally thrown around by Violet! Reviews make me a happy camper!


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: Guys, I'm falling in love with this story, too! Is that possible for an author? And you all said you wanted quicker updates, so I delivered because I love you all – your support literally makes my life. Plus this idea won't get out of my brain, so I figured, hey, I'll write another chapter and hopefully make some of my readers' days. So I expect to get lots of hugs and love in return!

_**Tongue On The Blade**_

She ignored him at practice the next day and he tried to stop thinking about how he furiously wanked off to her the night before, unable to get her image out of his brain until his brow was sweaty and his sheets were sticky, his heart pounding as he sent himself over the edge of bliss, gasping out her name into his pillow. He felt embarrassed around her, like he knew that she knew she was the star of his perverted fantasies, but if she did, her demeanor didn't show it. On second thought, he didn't think it could get any icier towards him anyway.

"Hey, Vi, wanna grab some sushi with me and Travis? There is this really awesome sushi place not far, right on the beach, and it gives a wonderful view of the ocean at night."

Gabe was looking at her with a look that Tate knew all too well with Chloe, and he could barely stop the groan in his throat. God, that kid was so desperate for a girlfriend that he glommed onto any nearby girl. He couldn't believe Violet wasn't already trying to think of excuses to ditch him as Chloe had done.

"Sure. I unpacked all my shit, and with my mom busy painting every day, I have all the free time in the world. Plus, I haven't tried your signature California roll yet."

She smiled as she play-punched him in the arm, and Tate could feel like the jealousy boil like hot acid in his throat.

"Man, you Californians are so presumptuous, naming a roll after yourselves."

Travis shot Tate a look, bass guitar still slung around his lanky shoulders, and nodded ever so slightly towards the two of them, as if to say what's going on over there, but Tate just shrugged. He was trying not to retch at the thought of Gabe making any kind of move on Violet.

"Tate, you should come with us."

Thank God for Travis.

"Okay, sure. Constance shouldn't give me any trouble this time."

His mother, Constance or the cocksucker as he liked to refer to her privately, was a huge alcoholic and a straight-up bitch in general. She was obsessed with outward appearances and reputations, which Tate thought was ironic considering that no matter how sugary sweet she tried to make herself appear, it would never cover up the ugliness within. She treated his mentally and physically handicapped siblings like dog shit, which really cut him deeply because he adored them to death, would do anything for them, but she knew they were his weakness and sometimes used them as leverage to forcibly mold him into the perfect boy she had always wanted. It sucked big time, but he was thankfully moving out the second he could, somewhere where he could be free of her forever.

"What happened last time?"

He was startled to hear her voice, still sharp so that he didn't miss her loud and clear signal that she wasn't asking him out of compassion, but rather morbid curiosity.

He focused right on her, completely forgetting that Travis and Gabe were still there, because this answer was just for her. He remembered when she briefly mentioned her parents' mess of a marriage, and while she didn't betray any noticeable weakness outwardly, he knew that there was no way she was as unscathed as she maintained, that she was hurting, angry, and sad. He knew that she was probably screaming on the inside when it was a particularly bad day and she felt helpless, unmanned, completely stripped naked to the hell that had become her life, powerless to stop it from beating her raw and bloody. He knew that she would hate that feeling more than anything.

She needed to know just how alike they were.

"She threw her gin and tonic at me. The glass cut my forehead. The gash was nasty enough to freak out Travis and make him drag me down to the hospital. Nine stitches."

He pulled his hair up so she could see the scar near his hairline, and then looked her straight in the face, yearning for her to realize that he knows her pain, he lives her pain, that he is the one who understands her, not her fucked up parents or nice guy Gabe.

"It's right about where that girl Leah gave you your battle scar."

He saw a flicker of surprise and maybe something else – pity, understanding, sympathy, maybe even excitement? – in her eyes before they returned to normal.

"Did you get her back?"

Her tone was challenging, as if she was daring him to do his worst, warning him that he better had done his absolute worst, and he managed a smirk of his own.

"I stole all her cigarettes and watered her beloved rose bushes with bleach."

He saw her make the same little sadistic smirk from before, and he could feel his chest swell with pride because she approved.

Travis cleared his throat awkwardly, and Tate shot him an apologetic look. Travis was so good and innocent that Tate tried to spare him from the not-so-nice details of his life. Travis's faint heart would not be able to take the horrors he faced daily.

"Sorry, got a little too dark. Are we ready to go?"

"Yes, if everyone else is all packed up."

Gabe and Violet nod in unison and start walking to the door, the mood lifted when she laughs at Gabe tripping over the sound equipment.

As they headed out the door, he couldn't help but feel that he had made progress.

* * *

The restaurant, Nora's, was packed as usual – it was a big local hangout for college kids looking to chow down as they wrote papers as well as for commuting dads and just-from-the-gym moms to grab a quick bite – and they had to wait a while to get seats, but thankfully Gabe knew one of the waiters – Tate grudgingly admitted to himself that Mr. Nice Guy was good for something – and they got a table right by an open window overlooking the beach.

He inhaled a deep lungful of salty sea air and sighed. The beach was where he went when things got too tough to deal with or the visions got a little too tempting. Before he could convince himself to make those fantasies into reality, he would go to the beach and just stare out at the water until there was nothing but the crash of the waves and the mournful cries of the gulls.

"Wow, it's beautiful."

He turned back to see Violet looking out at the sea, her hair flowing softly in the cool breeze, and she looked as serene as the water.

"Yeah it is."

You are.

She started a bit when she heard his voice, probably because she thought that no one would hear her or was paying attention. He was about to continue when Gabe cut in.

"The beaches here are the best. You can catch some awesome waves right before a storm."

Tate bit his lip in frustration as Gabe stole Violet's attention away from him, her calm, soft demeanor from before slipping away.

"You surf?"

"Sometimes. But skateboarding is my true passion. What do you do for fun, Vi?"

"Oh, me? I don't really have any hobbies."

"Come on, I don't believe that for a second."

She laughed nervously.

"Well, I do like to write. Poetry, music, stories, whatever pops into my head."

"That's cool. You should show us sometime."

"Maybe. I'll need to make sure it's good first."

He suddenly got very angry at the thought of Violet sharing her writing with anyone else but him. He selfishly wanted that part of her for himself – hell, who was he kidding, he wanted all of her for himself, and he was damn sure not about to share any of her – especially something that intimate – with Gabe of all people.

Thankfully at that precise moment, their waitress – a tall blonde who was making eyes at a mesmerized Travis – set down their sushi and all conversation was halted as they dug hungrily into their meal.

As he snuck glances at her between bites of his tuna roll, he kept finding her looking out at the sea.

* * *

Violet had gone to the bathroom a little while ago, and Tate had tuned out from the others' conversation, preferring to watch the ocean, smooth as glass, and see how many boats he could spot. The moon's reflection in the water made it easy to count the boats, and he was up to twenty five when he saw a small figure on the beach.

It sat down on the sand near the charred ashes from a recent bonfire, and when he squinted, he instantly recognized its blonde hair and long dress.

Violet.

"Hey, guys, I'm just gonna go down to the beach for a bit."

He hastily slapped his money down on the table and literally sprinted out of the restaurant.

As he leapt down the stairs two at a time, he looked up at the moon and the perfection of the night made him desperately wish it was just him and Violet on a date, that Gabe didn't exist, that she didn't despise him, that he wouldn't have to resort to following her around like a puppy dog and snatch moments alone with her, hoping that she would grace him with a smile instead of a scowl.

She didn't move as he sat down beside her, his sneakers full of sand from his jog to her. They sat in silence for a few minutes before he spoke.

"This is my favorite place to go. I go here when things get too crazy, when the world feels like it's closing in and I can't breathe."

She didn't answer, but he thought he saw her nod her head ever so slightly.

"I guess coming here reminds me how small I am, that no matter how big my problems are, they are nothing compared to the vastness of the ocean. I guess it reminds me how much other stuff is out there, that my life is not limited to what I have now, that I can reach out to other things and claim them if I wanted."

This time she turned to look at him.

"You need to stop this."

Well, that wasn't the answer he was expecting.

"What do you mean?"

She sighed, and he was surprised to see that she wasn't nearly as fiery as he was accustomed to. Instead she seemed tired rather than angry or indignant – and that terrified him.

"You know what I mean. I know what you're trying to do. And I'm telling you to stop."

"But –"

"I can't be your friend, Tate. So you need to cut it out."

Wait, what? What did she mean, she can't be?

"Why can't you?"

"Can't, don't, same thing. Just stop it and leave me alone."

She got up and started walking to the car, but he wasn't about to let her get away, no, he couldn't, not after that kind of answer. He got up and ran after her, haphazardly slipping on the sand.

"Violet! Wait!"

She turned around just as he grabbed her arm, dragging her cardigan up to her elbow.

She hissed as he tugged her back to him, and he looked down to see four new perfectly parallel lines, red and neat, on her wrist.

She cut herself?

He looked back up at her, shock and concern evident in his eyes.

"Violet…"

She yanked her arm out of his, quickly pulling the cardigan down to hide the cuts and looking around to make sure no one saw or heard them, now fully back in her angry mode.

"Don't you dare pity me. You violated my privacy."

"Vi –"

"This changes nothing. Stay away from me."

She quickly walked away, leaving him alone under the moon's glow.

* * *

A/N: Why can't Vi at least be Tate's friend? Shit just got a bit more personal. Reviews make me happy!


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: I'm back! Don't worry, I know Violet has been punching Tate around for a while, but he will be back with a vengeance very, very soon.

_**Tongue On The Blade**_

At practice the next day, she made it a point to surround herself with Gabe and Travis almost constantly so he couldn't even attempt to get her alone, which he wanted to, desperately. After he accidentally discovered that she cut herself, he found his obsession with her growing wilder, hungrier, even more all-consuming than before because now he knew they shared yet another secret, another way in which their darkness was the same. If she hadn't stomped away from him, he would have shown her his own scars on his wrists, pointed out the one from a few months ago that sent him to the hospital and almost to hell, because he knew he certainly wasn't going to heaven after he died. As miserable as he felt when he woke up the next morning – IVs pumping fluids into both arms, doctors constantly coming back and front to check this or that, nurses giving him pitiful looks which he fucking hated, Constance putting on the best concerned mother façade he had seen yet – he now was grateful he didn't succeed. Maybe she was the reason the universe didn't let him die. He liked to think so.

Tate was still in the middle of his thoughts when Travis cleared his throat to get everyone's attention.

"Hey, guys, good job again. There is something I would like to discuss with you all."

They all sat down, Gabe putting his arm on the couch behind Violet's shoulders, and Tate almost could have murdered him right there. He tried to take comfort in the fact that she didn't lean back against the cushions, but rather hunched forwards, eyes twinkling in excitement.

"What's up, Travis? Anything from the Murder House?"

Travis smiled toothily, and Tate couldn't help but smile a little himself. Travis was the good guy of the group, simple and innocent and always looking to help others, someone who never had to contend with the demons Tate was tortured by. He was grateful to have Travis around, because he reminded Tate that there were good people and genuine joy in the world, but sometimes he envied him and his uncomplicated life.

"Not yet, but that's what I wanted to talk about. I am going up to the venue tomorrow to meet with the guy and get a tour of the place. As such, there will be no practice tomorrow. I want you to rest up your voice, Violet, since we've been working you so hard."

"You got it, boss."

She gave him a salute, which made Travis smile and wave his hands self-deprecatingly.

"I'm by no means the boss, but I'm glad you're willing to listen to me anyway."

Violet laughed lightly, and Tate wished he could listen to her laughter forever.

"But yeah, take the day off tomorrow. You've all earned it. Now I gotta run."

As Travis packed up, Tate went back to his guitar and began tuning. He could hear Gabe and Violet whispering to each other, and he really fucking wanted to know what they were talking about.

"That sounds like a lot of fun, Gabe. I'd love to go."

Go? Go where? When? Is she going with just him? Is this a date?

His hands twitched violently, like they were going to run off on their own accord and strangle Gabe, and he could feel the jealousy roiling in his stomach. She should be going out with _him_; even more, she should _want_ to be going out with him, not doormat, clingy-as-Saran-wrap Gabe.

"So how about we meet at 7?"

"Sounds like a plan."

When Violet wasn't looking, Gabe shot him a haughty smirk and Tate just knew he was immensely enjoying his torment. Maybe he thought of it as poetic justice, a taste of his own medicine, finally getting his much-deserved payback for all the times he had to see Tate with Chloe. An eye for an eye, a heartbreak for a heartbreak, and Tate knew Gabe was ready – no, not ready, fucking eager – to twist the knife as hard as he could.

Too bad he knew how to use a knife too.

* * *

Thankfully Gabe finally fucking left, but not after trying to get Violet to go with him to dinner, something she did decline because apparently she had to eat with her parents that night, which she described as another last ditch attempt to mend their family.

She was huddled in the chair, her notebook out on her lap, and Tate was just watching her write when she suddenly winced and let out a quiet swear, clutching her wrist.

Without even thinking about how she might be less than enthusiastic about him helping her, he rushed to her side.

"Violet! Are you okay?"

She hissed in pain, and when she released her waist, he sucked in a sharp breath at the quarter-sized stain of blood on her sleeve.

"Wait here, I'll go get –"

"I don't need your help."

She pushed him out of the way as she got up from the chair, walking quickly to the first aid kit Travis kept to keeping around after Tate's run-in with the hospital. He never told either him or Gabe the whole story, but Travis had a sixth sense about things like this, and no matter how much Tate tried to convince him otherwise, he insisted on being prepared from then on.

She ripped open a piece of gauze with her teeth, rolling up her sleeve to expose the damage. Tate could see that there were now five lines.

She had cut herself last night.

But before he could dwell on what – or if he – had caused it, she had finished bandaging her wrist and was already tugging her sleeve down again. She stood up and walked away from him to the wall of the garage, eyes glaring back at his own. She must have sensed that what he was about to say, because she beat him to the punch, her voice hard and angry, always angry with him.

"Don't pretend that you know how I feel."

"Violet…"

"Everyone tells me that they understand what I'm going through with my parents, my dead baby brother or sister, moving away from everything and everyone I've ever known. Everyone looks at me like I'm about to fall apart, like I'm some fucking china doll. I fucking hate it."

God, how he wanted to tell her that he did understand, he understood every bit of it, he really, truly, deep down did, but the dangerous flash of her eyes made him keep his mouth shut even though it nearly killed him to do so.

"I told you to stop at the beach, but clearly you're so thick-headed I'll have to say it again. Stop. Stop trying to be my knight in shining armor. I'm not a weak, helpless damsel in distress. I don't want your help. I don't need you to save me, _so stop trying to save me and leave me alone_."

But couldn't she see? He can't leave her alone, not when they're perfect for each other, not when he finally found her.

She quickly walked past him, and the door was already swinging closed before he could say anything.

* * *

A/N: Short, I know, but I'm hoping to post the next chapter – which is going to have some yummy sexual tension – very soon. Reviews make me super happy!


	6. Chapter 6

A/N: Hey, guys, I'm back. I should be in work today, but quite frankly I feel awful – super fatigued, stomach out of whack, all that fun stuff. But I'm hoping writing sexy, back-in-action Tate will make me feel better. The song is "Post Blue" by Placebo, another excellent song that harkens to canon Violate.

_**Tongue On The Blade**_

It was evening, and even though he knew they didn't have practice today, he ended up at the garage anyway, partly out of habit and partly because he was hoping Violet would be there regardless of what Travis told her to do.

He had to explain himself.

He had to make her see that he wasn't trying to save her because of some misguided, outdated, frankly misogynistic view of chivalry. He wasn't trying to solve all her problems in order to guilt or compel her to do or be anything to him. He genuinely, truly wanted to help her because – he didn't even know or understand why, he only knew there was no way he could _not_ help her. What he felt about her – the irresistible pull, the jealousy when Gabe would make her laugh, the happiness when he could catch her in moments where her defenses were down – defied explanation or measurement. It was elemental, primal, raw, touching all the way down to his bones. How could he even attempt to describe or quantify it? All he could do was revel in its glory.

How could he make her see that if she so stubbornly refused to acknowledge it?

He had no doubt that she felt it. None. He was very rarely positive about anything in his life – other than the fact that his mother is a bitch and he probably likes violence more than he should – but this was one of the few things he knew in his bones and heart that was true.

So why did she feel like she had to fight him so hard?

* * *

As he opened the door to the cool, dusky garage, he could already hear her singing.

"It's in the water, baby.

It's in the pills that bring you down.

It's in the water, baby.

It's in your bag of golden brown.

It's in the water, baby.

It's in your frequency.

It's in the water, baby.

It's between you and me."

He placed his guitar down by the door and snuck silently to the couch, still in awe of the power of her voice reverberating off the walls of the garage, the obvious pouring of herself into the lyrics. Her skirt was swishing lightly as she swayed back and forth, her hair falling into her face as she leaned towards the microphone. He knew that if someone else saw the look on his face at this moment, if they were of the poetic nature, they would say he had seen the face of a goddess.

"It's in the water, baby.

It's in the pills that pick you up.

It's in the water, baby.

It's in the special way we fuck.

It's in the water, baby.

It's in your family tree.

It's in the water, baby.

It's between you and me."

Again, like last time he caught her alone like this, he couldn't help but think the song was about the two of them.

"Bite the hand that feeds.

Tap the vein that bleeds.

Down on my bended knees.

I break the back of love for you.

I break the back of love for you.

I break the back of love for you,

I break the back of love for you."

She finished, the relevancy of the final repeated line not at all lost on him, and when she opened her eyes, they were already trained on his exact position as if she had expected him to be there. He let out a breath he didn't know he was holding.

He remembered that he was there to explain himself, to hopefully convince her to let down her armor and finally let him in, and all of the carefully crafted sentences he had written out and practiced in his bathroom mirror all last night flew from his mind and the only thing that he could say was –

"You're amazing."

She just rolled her eyes at him as she hopped off the stage.

"You really don't know how to take a fucking hint, do you?"

"Violet –"

She whipped around to face him, eyes burning with something untamed and undefined, and then she exploded at him.

"Jesus fucking Christ, Tate! How many times do I have to tell you?! Leave me alone! Stop pretending you know me and how I feel. You know _nothing_ about me."

And suddenly he got angry, so angry, at her. No, no, no, this is not how he wanted to handle her or explain himself to her. But his dark side reared up, like the gladiator in ancient Rome or scream queen in a horror movie – beaten and kicked down for the entire fight, to the point where everyone watching thought their only option was to just accept their horrible fate, until suddenly, they just decided they had had enough and rally with a new burst of strength and ferociousness nobody expected. That side of him had had enough of these games, this weird limbo, of her pushing him away, and especially teasing him with Gabe, regardless if she did it deliberately to piss him off. That side of him had had enough of her bullshit, quite frankly, and was ready to make her face this, and him, head on whether she fucking liked it or not.

"That's not true."

The sudden change in his voice made her start slightly, and Tate thought he saw a quick flash of fear – or maybe it was something else? – in her eyes before her anger returned, and he pounced on it.

"Excuse me?"

Suddenly he had pinned her against the wall, his breath hot and fast against her ear.

"You and I are more alike than you think, and you know what? I think that scares you."

She gulped slightly, and his smirk turned savage.

"I'm not scared of anything, least of all you."

"You're not really scared of me. You're scared of how I make you feel. When you looked at me when you auditioned, I know you felt the electricity between us. But you don't know how to handle it and so you're trying to push me away, keep me at arm's distance, busying yourself with Gabe because he is boring and safe."

He made a disgusted noise at the thought of his band mate.

"But you're dark like me. I know you loved kicking Leah's ass. I know you loved it when I told you I killed my mother's rose bushes. I saw that little smirk you made. Did you think you could hide it from me? I can practically taste the darkness rolling off you."

She struggled against him, but he just pressed his body even closer to hers, his mouth even closer to her ear, and he could feel the fast pitter-pat of her heart against her ribs, and he loved that he was the one that made her feel that nervous, that finally, _finally_, she couldn't hide from whatever it was between them. Her heartbeat, her quick breaths, the goose bumps breaking out on her skin – they were all betraying how she really felt, and he would not let her get away with denying them again. He was going to push her limits, force her hand, make her admit what he has known since the moment he first saw her – they belong to each other.

He traced his fingers up her hip to just under her arm, just barely missing the curve of her breast, and he felt her shudder beneath him.

"I bet I know what you think about, what makes you hot. I bet I'm the one you think of late at night."

"No…"

But her protest was soft, fluttery, yielding, and he knew it would hold up like butter against the knife he held. He kissed her neck softly, making sure she felt his moist lips against her skin, before he pulled back to look at her face, his deep brown eyes confronting hers.

"Why are you fighting me so hard, Violet? Why are you so afraid?"

But before she could answer, he heard the door of the garage open.

* * *

A/N: CLIFFFIE! I know, you all hate me right now. Reviews are always loved!


	7. Chapter 7

A/N: I'm back. And so is sexy, dark Tate. Get excited! Also, I want to give a shout-out to **sothereyougo** for her awesome reviews – I love her in-depth analysis of the relationship between Tate and Violet. I also want to thank for always leaving me such nice reviews – I am still on the quest for her elusive 10/10 rating. When I get that, I might just give up, since then I would have achieved perfection.

And thankfully, I only have one final left and then my first year of graduate school is complete! Wow, it flew by so fast! Thanks to all of you for being so patient and supportive of this story. You're the best!

_**Tongue On The Blade**_

Both of them whipped their heads in the direction of the door, and he could hear her breath coming hard and fast. He could practically smell the adrenaline pumping through her veins.

"Violet? It's me."

Gabe's voice filled the garage, and Tate barely managed to stifle a groan.

He actually contemplated killing him right that instant because of course, leave it to him to interrupt at the fucking worst possible time, right when he was finally getting somewhere with Violet. He hadn't seen them yet as the sound equipment was blocking them from view, and Tate was at least thankful for that small gift considering their rather compromising position. Even though Gabe could not justify being angry or jealous even if he did see them since technically Violet was not his girl – and if Tate had anything to do with it, she would never be anybody's girl other than his – Tate knew he would still pitch a fit because he would inevitably see it as Tate stealing his crush _again_. He really did not want to deal with his passive aggressive bullshit for the next few practices, but at the same time, it would be worth it to stay this close to her.

Suddenly he felt her hands pressing against his chest.

"Get off me."

He could hear the familiar venom in her whisper – the old Violet was back, her moment of vulnerability to him gone, and he again cursed Gabe for ruining everything. He knew that she was already repairing her barriers, probably berating herself for letting him get too close and vowing never to let it happen again. He knew she would try to ignore what happened, to go back to how things were before their little encounter, but there was no way he would allow that, oh no.

He daringly reached back around her neck and nibbled her earlobe before replying, his breath on her skin even hotter than before.

"No."

He smirked when she shivered before giving him a harder shove.

"I mean it. Get off me."

"Violet? Are you here?"

Gabe's voice was even closer now, and he reveled in the terrified look in her eyes because that was just another sign that showed him that she was not nearly as immune to him as she claimed to be – why else would she be afraid of being caught with him like this?

He grasped her chin in his hand, pulling her face close to his, eyes locked onto hers, and he wanted to kiss her so fucking badly it hurt, Gabe be damned, but he stopped himself. As tempting and delicious as her lips looked right now, all plump and red with fear and excitement, he didn't think their first kiss should be rushed and under such stressful circumstances. Quite frankly, his darker side wanted to enjoy her, wanted to make her burn for him slowly, wanted her to be as mad for him as he was for her. He knew it would be so much sweeter if she surrendered to him because she wanted to, and he had a feeling that if he remained patient and played his cards right, she would want to, if her shivers and shudders at his ministrations were any indication.

"Fine, I'll let you go for now."

She immediately tried to duck under his arm, but he was too fast for her and caught her, pulling her flush against his chest and smirking at her when she shot a glare at him. He let his cheek brush hers as his mouth again made its way to her ear, his voice low with insinuation and anticipation.

"But this isn't over."

He pulled away from her just as Gabe rounded the corner. He stopped in surprise when he saw the two of them, and Tate saw his eyes narrow when he glanced at him. Tate knew Gabe was too smart to be completely unsuspicious of the circumstances, but he had no proof and Tate wasn't about to give him evidence by acting shifty or guilty.

"Hey, Vi, I thought you weren't here."

"Sorry I didn't answer, I was just caught up with a song I was writing. Tate had just interrupted me."

She stepped around him, going over to the chair where her notebook was and from the lack of waver in her voice or step, he could tell that she had recovered herself well from their encounter, which both made him happy, as Gabe couldn't ask her if he had been bothering her without looking inappropriately overprotective, and angry, because he wanted to have as much of an effect on her as she did him and it pissed him off that she could so quickly act like nothing happened.

"Do you mind if I take a look at the song? I might be able to offer some tips."

Tate almost growled and told him to fuck off – that intimate part, and all other intimate parts, of Violet are for him alone – but she interjected quickly.

"I appreciate the offer, but it is still far from being even close to good. I'd be embarrassed to show it to you now."

"Don't be so hard on yourself, Violet. I'm sure it's great."

Gabe's puppy dog voice and "nice guy" compliments made Tate want to rip his throat out, so he looked down at the floor, trying to find anything to distract himself from the increasingly violent yet tempting fantasies he had for Gabe's demise.

"Maybe later, then."

But the noncommittal tone of her voice told Tate she wouldn't, and he couldn't help the devious grin that broke out on his face.

"Well, are you ready to go? It's almost 7. We don't want to be late for the movie."

Movie?

"Yes, I'm ready."

Gabe went over to her and slung his arm around her shoulders, and he was so fucking furious that Gabe thought he could just _touch_ her like that, he almost missed her nearly imperceptible flinch, the hard set of her jaw, the uncomfortable look in her eyes.

But he didn't.

He knew without a doubt she was thinking about just how close the two of them had just been and how she hadn't responded to him like that at all when by all means, she should have.

As they walked out of the garage, he tried to take solace in the fact that soon it would be his arms around her.

* * *

After they left, Tate couldn't bring himself to go home – the cocksucker had recently sunk her claws into a new man almost fifteen years her junior, and he really didn't want to be anywhere near them. His mother's boy toys' cluelessness and blind devotion to her really fucking pissed him off, and his mother's sad attempts to be sexy for them made him want to throw up. So he just settled into the couch, losing himself in thoughts of Violet.

She was so beautiful when he cornered her. Her breathy "no" when he said that he was the one she touched herself to, her soft hair, and her eyes, oh, those eyes. What he would give to see what her eyes would look like when he would romance her on a date, or when he would bring her flowers just because he could, or when he would fuck her for hours, make her scream out in his name in sweet, glorious pleasure, make her say she was his.

He could feel himself growing hard beneath his jeans.

He imagined kissing her everywhere – her lips, her eyelids, her enticing neck, her taunt little breasts that he just knew she would have, and finally her most secret place, all wet and aching for him – and before he knew it, his pants were around his ankles.

As he brought himself to the edge, her name was on his lips.

And he was determined to make his fall from hers.

* * *

A/N: Hot and heavy! Reviews are much loved.


	8. Chapter 8

A/N: Happy Memorial Day, y'all! I'm currently enjoying my day off, and before I get obsessed with Sherlock and the yummy Benedict Cumberbatch, I'm going to update because you guys are just so nice to me. Onward ho, to sexy Tate waters we go! I hope I can write the inner workings of a psychopath's mind accurately – though if I do, what does that say about me?

_**Tongue On The Blade**_

After he finally went home that night, he couldn't help but wonder what movie Gabe took her to. The sadistic part of him hoped it was a romantic drama, with explicit sex scenes, all the works, the woman moaning and screaming while her lover made good on all the sexual tension building up for the past hour and fifteen minutes. How he would relish in the pure satisfaction of knowing that Gabe probably took her to such a movie hoping to elicit in Violet some sheet-ripping fantasies of him. And how he would revel in the irony that Gabe's plan would work, oh it would work very well, far beyond his own expectations, but little did he know that, unfortunately, he wouldn't be the one starring. He imagined Violet thinking of him while watching those scenes, remembering their charged encounter right under Gabe's nose and uncomfortably pressing her legs together, and Gabe happily sitting next to her, naively believing that he would be the subject of Violet's blooming lust.

He chuckled to himself as he lay in bed, watching the curtains swish softly in the breeze and listening to the muted sounds of the night – crickets, car horns, an open gate door banging softly, a soft, lonely cry from some unknown animal. Thankfully his mother and her newest plaything were passed out from sex and whiskey before he had returned home. Once he had confirmed their unconsciousness – and thankfully tampered down the thought of just quickly and neatly slitting their throats while he had the opportunity – he had crept up the stairs as silently as a cat and snuck into his room, shedding all but his boxers as he crawled into his bed.

Was she thinking of him now? Was she thinking of him after Gabe dropped her off, as she laid her bed just as he was right now?

He knew he affected her – he didn't have to have borderline psychopathic tendencies to figure that out – but that didn't guarantee that she would act the way he wanted. If anything, the fact that he exposed a weakness would probably make her even more defensive and wary around him. It wasn't enough to force her to acknowledge that she was attracted to his darkness. Force was only the opening act, the way to make her pay attention to him, but it couldn't be the main course. He knew she would push back and resist if he used force in all of their future interactions. He knew that force gave her a reason to justify her actions later if she responded in a way that she didn't like, that she could excuse away any kisses or touches or moans or shivers because she could just say he forced her to feel that way. No, he had to now seduce her slowly, tease her, gently coax her, lure her into his domain like a cat would a mouse. He had to let her taste his darkness not because he forced her to, but because her curiosity and bravery wouldn't let her not taste it, because she really fucking wanted to know what he tasted like – would he be salty sea air, or coppery blood, or hot metal, or dusty cocaine? If he took that approach, piqued her curiosity and subtly challenged the bravery she so prided herself on, and led her to him that way, she couldn't excuse away or dismiss her actions, and then he would have her.

He smiled to himself as he fell asleep, her face dancing on the undersides of his eyelids.

* * *

He woke up to a text from Travis the next morning.

"Meet me in the garage right now if you can come."

He couldn't help grinning as he bounded down the stairs and out the door without even a good morning to his mother, who was groggily getting up from the couch, hand shielding her bleary, bloodshot eyes from the sun outside.

Even though he briskly walked all the way to the garage, even running at some points, he was the last person to show up. He sat down opposite from Gabe and Violet, and was more than pleased to see that she was slightly leaning away from him and making sure that her leg was not touching his even though he kept moving over. He smirked at her attempts to stay away from him and the somewhat obvious disgruntlement her lack of interest was causing Gabe, earning him a glare from her when she caught him. But before he could say anything to her to try to assess how her "date" with Gabe went the night before – which, as far as he could tell, probably didn't go quite the way Gabe wanted, which made his darker side positively gleeful with schadenfreude – Travis began speaking.

"Okay, guys, good news. After my tour of the place with the manager, we sat down and I laid out our act. He was a bit wary at first when I told him we had just replaced our singer –"

He shot a glance at Violet to make sure he didn't offend her, but she just smiled.

"But when I told him that she has an even better voice and had already nailed all our songs, he seemed to relax. He called the scheduling department right then. So the short story is we got the gig!"

Gabe reached over and clapped Travis on the shoulder.

"That's awesome, man. Good job."

Violet jumped up and ran over to Travis, seemingly oblivious to the flash of sadness and anger on Gabe's face, and enveloped him in a tight hug.

"You're honest to God serious? Because I will kill you if you're joking."

Tate couldn't help but laugh at her obvious excitement, and Travis chuckled as he patted her on the back.

"You can kill if I am. No jokes here, Vi. We're playing next month."

She gave a small cry of happiness – Tate knew that she was not a girl who ever squealed, and probably despised the types who did, preppy cheerleaders and fashion-obsessed daddy's girls who dressed in nothing less than Prada and Chanel – and hugged him even harder, which made him pretend to wheeze.

"I think you're gonna break my ribs, Vi."

She just laughed, and proceeded to hug him even harder.

"We should celebrate."

Tate shot a look at Gabe, who was still jealously looking at Violet still embracing Travis, which caused him to smirk slightly.

Violet gasped as she pulled away from Travis, eyes still twinkling with excitement.

"That's a great idea. What should we do?"

And suddenly he had an idea, a deviously brilliant idea, because what better way to draw Violet closer to him than to recreate the spark he knew they both felt when she first sang to him?

"How about karaoke?"

* * *

A/N: How about karaoke, guys? What do you think? Reviews are loved.


	9. Chapter 9

A/N: OH MY GOD YOU GUYS, I FUCKING LOVE SHERLOCK. BENEDICT CUMBERBATCH. He is deadly to my ovaries. I'm dying for the next season. I am toying with the idea of _maybe_ foraying into Sherlock fanfiction, but he is SUCH a hard character to write, and I don't know if I'd be any good at it. I'm also still trying to work out who I ship, though **jandjsalmon** is making a really good case for Sherlock/Molly. What do you guys think – should I try?

The Hanged Man is a nod to canon Ben's death, obviously, and I think that it is also appropriate that it is one of the Major Arcana of the Tarot, representing sacrifice, suspending action, and letting go. Hopefully we'll see Violet letting go a bit more soon, eh? The song is "Bang Bang Bang Bang" by Sohodolls, which is just a sexy song and I think it fits Violet very well – no one understands her, and she has a dangerous streak in her.

_**Tongue On The Blade**_

They had gone to The Hanged Man, a new place that was an odd hybrid of restaurant, club, and bar that had just opened not too far from Nora's. Tate knew that Travis, Gabe, and he were all over 21, but he could spot a fake when he saw one, and when Violet whipped out her ID to give to the security guard, he sucked in a sharp breath, just waiting for him to wave her away with an exasperated look on his face. But he didn't, and Tate simultaneously couldn't blame him and also wanted to kill him when Violet shot him a dazzling smile when he hesitated in his inspection. One doe-eyed look was all it took to melt the security guard's resolve, and she sashayed into the dim-lit foyer with the rest of them like nothing had ever happened.

As he watched her go to the bar with Travis and Gabe, laughing loudly at something one of them had said, sidling up to the bartender to ask for a sex on the beach, he was suddenly, painfully aware that Violet wasn't nearly as innocent as she made herself out to be.

He watched her as she sipped her drink, her tongue dashing out ever so slightly to suck an ice cube into her mouth. It should be illegal how sensual that little move was.

He came up behind her as the bartender was busy at the opposite end of the bar, and put his elbows down on the shiny wood, fingers playing on the rim of her half-gone drink.

"So you sneak into bars often?"

She started when she heard his voice, but then she scowled back down at him, eyes darting to make sure the bartender and any other security were far out of earshot before she responded, her voice low and hissing with disapproval that he would bring up the fact that she wasn't supposed to be there so flagrantly.

"None of your business."

He just kept sliding his fingers over the rim of her glass, and he just loved the thought that when she put the glass to her mouth, there was no place she could drink from that was free of his touch.

"By the way you smiled at that bouncer, I'd reckon you've already had some practice."

"Jealous?"

But she said it a little too quickly for it to completely be an insult, and he could feel a feral smirk grow on his lips.

"What a quick conclusion to jump to."

"Oh, please, I'm not stupid."

"I never insinuated that you were."

She shot him another look, rolling her eyes as her hand reached out to grab his drink – straight whiskey on ice. She threw it back in one swig, and slammed the glass back down on the bar, and started to walk away, not even glancing over her shoulder to see if he was following.

"You never did answer my question."

"You already know the answer."

He smirked – ah, so she did sneak around a lot back in Boston – and he couldn't help reaching out to lightly touch the small of her back as they weaved their way through the crowd to the table where Travis and Gabe were beckoning to them.

She whipped around as soon as she felt his touch, but Tate was too quick and caught her hand before she could slap him, yanking it down quickly before anyone could see them and think they were about to start a fight.

"Now, now, you wouldn't want to cause a scene. They may get curious and find out that you're not supposed to be here."

The fury in her eyes at the fact that he had her and there was no way she could get rid of him without causing problems for herself almost made him chuckle, but he contained himself. He was right about her reaction to their charged encounter in the garage – she was extremely defensive around him, and quite on edge, if her quick reflexes were to be considered. He had more of an effect on her than she would ever care to admit, so naturally it was time to up the ante, put his seductive darkness on display, and let her wonder, and even better, fantasize.

"Maybe you shouldn't provoke me."

"It's not my fault it's so fun."

"Let go of me."

"No."

"I mean it."

"Well, doesn't this sound familiar?"

She actually blushed at his not-so-subtle reference to last night, and tried desperately to yank her hand from his, but he only tightened his grip and pulled her closer to him, taking advantage of the crowd of people shielding them from Travis and Gabe. He knew no one would inquire about a couple holding hands tightly in a place throbbing with people, music, and drinks.

His voice dropped an octave, and he could almost see the sounds tainted with the wisps of darkness from his soul sliding out of his mouth and into her ears.

"Tell me, Violet, did you like last night?"

He heard her breath hitch before she swiftly pulled her hand out of his, and raced towards the table, where their two band mates were probably wondering what had happened to the two of them by now.

He smirked as he followed her.

* * *

She was doing a remarkable job of ignoring him from that point onward despite sitting next to him and the number of drinks they had all had in the past few hours – usually imbibing a rather substantial amount of alcohol was enough to make even the most heartless of people forgive him, but apparently not Violet. He was not drunk even though he had downed two rum and cokes and a shot of whiskey, because if he learned anything from his mother, it was that pacing was everything. And there was no way he was going to miss an opportunity with Violet because he was too drunk to do anything. She looked pretty lucid herself even after having a tequila sunrise and now working on a Long Island iced tea, which indicated to him that her illegal barhopping back in Boston was more frequent that her parents, no matter how tolerant they could be, would have liked, had they noticed.

"Okay, guys, we really should start singing. I vote Violet goes first."

Gabe was slightly slurring his words, and Tate could only hope that him being a pitiful lightweight repulsed Violet as much as him.

"Aw, come on, guys, you already know I can sing."

"Of course, that's why we want to hear more of it!"

Travis gingerly patted Gabe on the back as if he was going to catch his inebriation from skin-to-skin contact before turning to look at Violet.

"Violet, you know how much we love hearing you sing. Please?"

"Indulge us."

She glared at him, because she didn't miss the tone that he used, sensual, seductive, suggestive, but he didn't care because Gabe was too drunk to notice and Travis was too polite to point it out. She also didn't miss the underlying meaning of what he said – it wasn't "indulge us," because he didn't give a damn about what Gabe wanted and only gave a modicum more as to what Travis wanted. He knew she picked up on what he was truly saying.

Indulge _me_.

She hesitated before letting out a sigh.

"Alright, but just one song. It's not fair that you guys get to have all the fun."

She slid out of the bench to the sloppy cheers of Gabe and loud applause of Travis – to which she turned around and playfully stuck her tongue out at them – and sauntered up to the DJ, whispering in his ear for a moment before he nodded and stopped the music.

"Hey, everyone, we got another singer up here. What's your name, little lady?"

He stuck the mic in her face, and Tate could tell from her thinly disguised sneer that she was doing the best she could not to punch him for calling her a little lady.

"It's Violet."

"Well, now Violet, mind telling everybody a little bit about yourself?"

"I'm from Boston, just moved here. And I sing for those three bastards back there."

She pointed out their table, causing all of them sink down in their seats, and she and the crowd shared a hearty laugh.

"You do? Well, welcome to LA, little lady, and let's get this party started. Take it away!"

The lights dimmed, the place bathed with soft, red light, and she walked up to the microphone, grabbed it tightly in her hand, and nodded to the DJ. The sound of sexy bass and drums filled the room, and she began.

"Teacher says that I've been naughty.

I must learn to concentrate.

But the girls they pull my hair

And with the boys I can't relate.

Daddy says I'm good for nothing.

Mama says that it's from him.

Manic sister thinks I'm cracking.

Brother says it's in my genes.

Don't you want to?

Don't you want to be the one?

Don't you want to?

Bang bang bang bang bang bang bang

Don't you want to?

Don't you want to hold the gun?

Don't you want to?

Bang bang bang bang bang bang bang."

Tate was on the edge of his seat, his fingers digging into his palms, his brow sweating. Why on earth had she picked this song? Why on earth was she swaying so fucking deliciously, her hips gyrating in slow, leisurely circles, her hands caressing the pole of the mic, up and down, up and down, slowly, so fucking slowly, that movement being so reminiscent of how he imagined her small hand stroking his cock, or even better, her moist, hot, little mouth sucking him off? He could feel himself growing hard beneath his jeans, and it was like he was right back at the beginning in her audition, utterly captivated by her, but even more so, and he didn't think that was even possible.

"So we put on our eyeliner and a bit of glitter dust.

Life at night is always finer.

Neon streets are full of lust.

Teenage kids and Sohodolls

They make you want to cry.

Like my superstar they fall.

Some will be alright.

Don't you want to?

Don't you want to be the one?

Don't you want to?

Bang bang bang bang bang bang bang

Don't you want to?

Don't you want to hold the gun?

Don't you want to?

Bang bang bang bang bang bang bang."

He could feel his heart pounding wildly, drowning out the whoops and whistles of approval from the crowd. My God, he couldn't take his eyes off her.

"Sunlight falls onto his eyes

But he don't stir or turn.

Messages on the answerphone

But none will be returned.

Monday morning, lousy morning

What a day to see

In the evening I will hear it on the BBC.

Don't you want to?

Don't you want to be the one?

Don't you want to?

Bang bang bang bang bang bang bang

Don't you want to?

Don't you want to hold the gun?

Don't you want to?

Bang bang bang bang bang bang bang."

She slowly opened her eyes as she finished, and the crowd let out a thunderous cheer. She gave a small bow before hopping down off the stage and back to the table, digging further into her half-finished meal and Long Island iced tea before looking up to find all of them still staring at her in disbelief.

"So that was fun."

Never did he think that such a harmless comment and massive understatement would make him feel like he needed to bolt to the bathroom and whack off until he couldn't stand.

He looked up at her to catch her devious smirk at him before she restarted her conversation with Travis, Gabe gaping at her like an idiot.

And then he understood why she had chosen that song, why she moved so mesmerizingly.

She wanted to get back at him for last night, make _him_ feel as nervous and flustered as he did her. He knew she was an "eye-for-an-eye" type of girl, saw justice as black and white, either you fucked up or you didn't, no gray area. There was no way she wasn't going to repay the favor tenfold, and judging by her smirk, she knew exactly how well it worked. Ah, look at his clever girl.

And yet what she didn't realize was how all wonderfully this played a part in his plan. He had wanted to draw her out slowly with his darkness, make her come to the realization on her own that she wanted him. The fact that she had done something to elicit a reaction from him only definitively proved that she was intrigued, no matter how much she denied it.

He smiled.

Game, set, match.

* * *

A/N: What do y'all think? Reviews are loved.


	10. Chapter 10

A/N: Sorry for the wait, I've just been so busy with lab. On we go. Jealous Tate out to play!

_**Tongue On The Blade**_

They ended up staying for a few more drinks, though Travis cut Gabe off when he got to the point of raucously yelling at the top of his lungs at the waitress for more beer. As it got later, more and more people flooded onto the dance floor, sweaty bodies writhing and grinding, and he could see more than a few couples getting hot and heavy in the frenzy of deep, pulsing bass and suggestive lyrics, hands wandering, tongues sloppily entwining. He was never one much for dancing, but he couldn't deny the enticing appeal of it – a mass of potential energy, pregnant with lusty possibilities, hinting at things to come later, teasing at what things could be.

Violet had again returned to steadfastly ignoring him after her little smirk at his obvious discomfort at her heated performance, and in stark contrast to Gabe's almost comatose state of drunkenness, she was sober, very alert, eyes hungrily taking in the dance floor.

"Hey, guys, I'm going to go get another drink from the bar. Anyone interested?"

Travis looked at her apologetically before glancing over at Gabe, who was slumped forward on the table.

"I think we're good over here, Vi. Gabe probably shouldn't drink for a week after this."

But before Tate could say he would happily accompany her, she had darted up from their table and was weaving her way through the crowd.

He watched her wedge her way to the counter, waving her hands at the bartender to get his attention, and pretty soon she was sipping on something neon green that looked pretty potent. He was about to get up to follow her when he saw a guy – mid-twenties, surfer blond, preppy clothes complete with pastel shorts with some type of marine creature sewn on them – slide up alongside her and start a conversation. And instead of shooting him down like he expected her to – he knew her enough to know that that guy was not her type – she flipped her hair and gave him a soft smile before saying something that made him laugh.

What?

Tate had to quickly squash the raging wave of jealousy that threatened to overwhelm his system. He had only barely managed to do that when he saw him sling his arm around her waist, and the immediate fantasies of eviscerating him came spewing forth, and he dug his fingernails deep into his thighs to stop himself from marching over there and beating him to a ragged mess of flesh.

He is the only one who's allowed to touch her like that.

She is _his_.

Thankfully Travis interrupted his murderous thoughts with a tap to the shoulder.

"Sorry to be a party pooper, Tate, but I think we should go home. Gabe isn't looking so hot."

Tate looked at Gabe, now soundly passed out on the table with a line of drool coming out of his mouth, surrounded by at least ten empty beer bottles, and he couldn't help wrinkling his nose in disgust before nodding his head at Travis.

"Okay, you're right. Get him to the car if you can. I'll get Violet."

He couldn't wait to cut in and steal her away from that former frat boy.

He pushed his way through the dance floor to get to the bar, and he arrived just as they sharing a laugh over a joke she had just told. When she saw him, her eyes narrowed and her stance stiffened, but at this point he was so angry at the guy for _still_ touching her that he couldn't give a fuck about being polite. He walked around her back, barely resisting the urge to rip that guy's arm off her. He placed his hand on the bar right next to where hers was still clutching her drink, and leaned in slightly, all the while giving an intense death glare to the guy who dared to encroach on what was his.

"Vi, we have to go. Gabe is sick."

He didn't miss the guy's eyebrow raise at his use of a nickname, which he knew would imply that his relationship with her was close. He relished the recognition in his eyes that he had just trespassed some boundaries that he really shouldn't have. Tate could hide his dark side pretty well most of the time, but he would showcase it when he needed to, and from the look of fear on this guy's face, he knew he could sense just how dangerous he really was. He withdrew his arm from her waist, and with a quickly muttered goodbye, slunk off into the thumping crowd.

As soon as he was out of sight, Violet whirled around to face him, her words filled with anger.

"And what the fuck do you think you're doing?"

"Getting you since we're leaving."

"No, you were scaring him away deliberately."

"That was just a bonus."

She scoffed and rolled her eyes before turning back to her drink.

"God, I can't believe you."

She looked around to see the other men at the bar eying her warily, and sighed in exasperation before taking a long swig of her drink.

"Can you beat it? You're scaring away all the prey."

What did she just say?

"Prey?"

"Yeah, all the cute guys who _could_ be buying me drinks right now. And make no mistake, they would be, if you'd stop staring daggers at them and _leave_."

"No can do, princess."

Plus it _is_ rather fun seeing them so frightened of him.

"You always have to spoil my fun."

"Sorry."

"Liar."

"You caught me."

She huffed indignantly before snatching her glass off the counter and finishing it. Tate looked back at their table to find it empty. Travis must have gotten Gabe on his feet at least, but who knows how long it would take them to weave their way through this crowd and get out to the car. He figured he would have at least ten more minutes with Violet, if Gabe's complete lack of motor control was any indication.

Ten minutes alone with Violet.

He couldn't help grinning as a daring idea came to him. He quickly enveloped her hand with his, and pulled her close, giving her no time to push him away or slap him, as he knew she would try to do.

"Dance with me."

He could see the surprise in her eyes – she wasn't expecting that he would be so bold again, despite their heated encounter last night – but before it was tempered by anger, he thought he may have seen something else.

Intrigue? Well, yes, he knew he intrigued her, and that she hated that he intrigued her, but that wasn't it, or at least not all of it. There was something deeper, darker, something that, in a way he couldn't describe, seemed to resonate with the atmosphere of the club, the beat of the music, the way that the dancers molded themselves together on the dance floor. As he caught a glance of some young couple heavily making out, he suddenly knew what it was – it was temptation, and her fear that she wouldn't be able to resist it this time around.

"Are you kidding?! No way. I bet you're a terrible dancer."

As he had admitted to himself earlier, he wasn't one much for it, but he was for anything with Violet, and the thought of them being that close together again, his arms around her hips, her face close enough to his to kiss if he wanted, and he _wanted_, was dangerously intoxicating.

"No way to know unless you actually dance with me."

"I don't want to dance with you."

She glanced over at the floor, now filled with couples definitely getting handsy, some already pushing past second base, and he wouldn't have been surprised to find some people discreetly sliding into third.

"The very idea is ridiculous."

"Why is it? You didn't seem to mind me being that close to you last night."

He heard her sharp intake of breath and she let a curtain of hair fall across her face. He reached to brush it behind her ear, but she slapped his hand away before turning to look at him earnestly.

"That was a mistake."

Even though she faced him when she said it, he didn't miss the slight waver in her voice.

"Was it?"

"Yes."

Who are you trying to convince, Violet?

"Okay, then, prove it to me."

She shot him a surprised look.

"What?"

"Prove that last night was a mistake. Dance with me."

He could almost see the battle raging across her face – her stubborn side, not willing to give him an inch or any piece of ammunition, ready to charge into his challenge and wipe that smug, knowing smirk off his face, versus her practical and rational side, not willing to gamble and run the very real risk of losing because she couldn't deny anymore that she may lose, reluctant to give him an opening so he could rip off her armor and expose her closely guarded secrets, and maybe have to face the worst thing of all – that she would give them up to him eagerly, would want to give them up to him so willingly. However, he knew that if she let her practical side win, while she knew it would be the safer option, it would give the impression that she was weak, that she didn't trust herself around him and wouldn't take the chance, and he was willing to bet that she would hate that even more than fighting and losing. For her, she would rather bluff and lose than play it safe, especially when she had something to prove, and he knew she was desperate to prove to him, but more importantly to herself, that he didn't affect her.

So he couldn't help smiling when he heard her answer.

"Okay."

* * *

A/N: Reviews are loved!


	11. Chapter 11

A/N: Wow, you guys are just the greatest! Thank you for all the reads, reviews, and support!

_**Tongue On The Blade**_

"Let's go then."

He grabbed her hand and started tugging her towards the dance floor, but she dug her heels in and refused to budge. He turned around to see her staring daggers at his hand wrapped around hers, like his fingers weren't flesh and bone and hot blood, but rather poisonous snakes so eagerly waiting to squeeze the life out of her.

"Changed your mind?"

He knew she hadn't, he knew the only thing worse for her than accepting his challenge and failing was reneging on it, because if she did, that was undisputable proof that she did not trust herself around him and that he had as good as won.

She shot him a withering look.

"No, I just need another drink or five first."

She leaned back over the counter to try to flag down the bartender, who looked quite busy with a party of eight down at the other end of the bar, many of whom were yelling angrily for tequila shots. He knew she was trying to stall, and quite frankly he didn't have the time or patience right now to indulge her – make no mistake, he would have played her little game if he could, would have been delighted to make her stew in anticipation until the tension was unbearable, but he didn't have time, he could almost hear it ticking away like a timer on a bomb – so he yanked her hard enough away from the bar that she stumbled into him, eliciting a yelp of both surprise and indignation as she hastily pushed herself away from his chest.

"What the fuck –"

"Stop stalling. Come on, I thought you were brave. Don't tell me a little dance with me is making you run for the hills."

He reached his hand out for hers again; there was no way he was letting her get away with just a promise of following him into the thumping crowd. There was a good chance that they would get separated by accident, and an even better chance that she would pull a fast one on him. He could see it now – Travis finding him searching through the crowd, both of them walking towards the door, and he would see her standing there innocently, her smile so wicked he would want to throttle her and ravish her at the same time right there, audience be damned. He just knew he would think of that devilish grin, complete with teeth biting at her lower lip, when he would get himself off in his bathroom once he got home, his strangled moans and gasps muffled somewhat by running water and chirping crickets, his worry that he would be heard by his mother thankfully negated by the sight of the empty bottle of rum on the kitchen table before he took the stairs two at a time. He knew it would be perfect for her – she could claim that she really did intend on dancing with him, Girl Scout's honor, cross her cold heart, but that they just got separated and that she was lucky to make it to the door to find Travis and tell him where to look for him, and he would have no way of proving that she ditched him on purpose. He was not about to let her get away with that – she was crafty, but so was he, and he knew now was not the time to take a chance. She was like a spitting cat backed into a corner, looking thoroughly and often for the first opening to escape, and he'd be damned if he gave her any such opportunity.

She glanced at his hand and bit her lip, and he knew she knew she was caught, but of course she would never give him the satisfaction of gloating. She shot him a hard look at his raised eyebrow and outstretched hand before giving up with a heavy sigh and reluctantly placing her hand in his.

"Just try not to step on me."

"No promises."

* * *

He led her into the middle of the dance floor, which he knew ironically provided the most privacy – no one could really see what or whom you were doing, and to put it bluntly, they didn't really care because more than likely they were doing the exact same thing. If you were on the edges, you would be visible to the people at the bar and at tables, and they might be a little more sober and get a bit more offended at your antics. Plus, he didn't want other people privy to something that was for him and Violet alone – she was his, and so were their moments, especially ones like these.

He looked back at her to see her face flushed, her eyes wide and focused to their left, completely engrossed in the pulsating mass of bodies. He didn't blame her – the atmosphere was intoxicating, the combination of hazy darkness, music, lust, and alcohol heady. Nevertheless he chuckled slightly at her, which snapped her attention back to him and earned him a light slap on the wrist.

"What's so funny?"

"Nothing. You're just so mesmerized by them. Don't tell me you never danced at all those bars you illegally snuck into back in Boston."

She harrumphed at him before turning back to stare at a heavily tattooed couple, one sporting blue curls and the other short lime green hair, gyrating to the beat, her arm bent back around his head, his hands tightly holding onto her hips. She watched them make out passionately for a second before sighing.

"Of course I did. I loved dancing back then. I still do. For me, it's just like singing – I can lose myself in it. The music. The beat. I lose all inhibition, I forget about my shit family, I give even less of a fuck about what's socially appropriate, and I can tap into the most primal, alive part of myself. I can finally let go. It's freeing and I love watching when other people reach that part of themselves, where they just say fuck it and make their wildest fantasies reality."

He couldn't help what he said next, even though he knew it sounded cheesy as hell, but he just couldn't stop himself because she looked so stunning with the strobe lights illuminating her face pink, green, gold, blue, purple, deep vibrant purple like her name, looking hungrily at the dancers like she just wanted to eat up their energy and sensuality. She had just been vulnerable to him again, even if she didn't realize it at first, but she also was predatory, eyeing the dancers like a lioness eyeing her prey, and that mix was fucking with his head.

He dipped his mouth by her ear.

"That's beautiful."

She jolted at the sound of him so close to her and then seemed to remember who he was. She rolled her eyes at him, and her armor was back in place.

"Shut up."

Maybe it was the loudness of the music, but he thought that her retort didn't seem as biting as usual. But before he had the chance to think about it, the deep boom of drums permeated the air and she smiled a mean little smile at him.

"I love this song."

And then she began dancing.

* * *

A/N: I know you all hate me, but don't worry – dancing will be next, and I've already started writing it.


	12. Chapter 12

A/N: I'm so sorry I was cruel with that cliffhanger last time. The song used is one of my favorite songs of all time and I am so excited to use it in my story – "Tony The Beat" by The Sounds. The story of Salome and King Herod comes from the Bible – King Herod asks his stepdaughter Salome to dance for him and promises her to give her whatever she wished. She asked for him to bring her the head of John The Baptist, Jesus's cousin, because her mother Herodias was angry at John The Baptist for proclaiming her marriage to Herod unlawful. King Herod, much to his own dismay, decapitates John The Baptist and brings it to her on a silver platter.

_**Tongue On The Blade**_

"Hey, let's kick it, stop, just lick it.

Let you start it 'cause, 'cause it's so easy.

You like it my way and I know it.

So let's do it, do it, do it real good."

She swayed in front of him, hips moving back and forth, up and down to the beat, far enough away that they weren't touching, but close enough that he could pull her to him if he reached out, which he had had all intentions of doing so, but it was like she had paralyzed him. He was just in awe at how she moved, so fluid and smooth like silk, and as hard as he tried, he couldn't make his arms work – he could only watch her in the strobe lights, hands running through her hair and down her body, and unapologetically gawk.

"Hot, it's sweaty, now I'm ready.

Just take it off 'cause, 'cause you tease me.

I like it that way and you know it.

So let's do it, do it, do it real good."

She looked up to see him almost literally drooling over her, feet still riveted to the floor, and he could see her laugh, but her cruel little giggle was lost to the music. She took a step towards him, wiggling her hips sensually, and then another, and then a third, and suddenly she was right in front of him, still not touching him, but her eyes were peering up at his, so big and innocently questioning his obviously flabbergasted state, but he knew better, he knew exactly what she was doing. He just saw her dance like a vixen, like Salome for King Herod, and he knew she knew she had the power to make him do anything for her right then, even cut off someone's head, and his dark side wouldn't find that nearly as distasteful as other people might have and he knew she wouldn't have, either. And now she was playing the innocence game to see just how far her ability to switch between succubus and angel could drive him insane, and he admitted that it was working spectacularly.

"Come on, you're the one who asked me to dance and you're not even dancing. You're just standing there looking like an idiot."

He heard her sharp words only because she had stood up on her tiptoes to yell them into his ear and that broke his trance. He put his hands on her hips and quickly turned her around so that her back was to his chest, and yanked her back into him. He grinned at her yelp of surprise when he knew she felt his arousal through his jeans.

"Not my fault you bewitched me."

She strained away from him, but his grip tightened on her hips and she hissed angrily. He swept her hair behind her ear and lowered his mouth next to it so he could make sure what he had to say next sunk in.

"Oh no you don't. You knew exactly what you were doing to me. You liked it, you fucking enjoyed it. You loved making me into a drooling mass of lust. You won't admit it, but you revel in your power over me."

Her eyes fluttered closed for a brief second and he knew his words were having quite a similar effect on her now. He could feel her body slightly relax into his and he began to sing the words of the song to her.

"Oh, this song is not for you lovers.

Woah, don't stop, push it now

And I will give it all to you.

Don't you stop now

And try to give it all up."

Her eyes slid shut again, her bottom now beginning to actually press back against his now straining erection, and he knew he had to keep going, full court press, break her defense so completely down so he could plant the seed, cement himself in her mind so that it was impossible for her to ignore him and push him away. He knew he just had to ignite her, fan the flames of her curiosity about him, set ablaze her attraction to him to the point where the fire was so big and wild that she could no longer douse it with the cold water of her rationality.

"Hey, let's kick it, stop, just lick it.

Let you start it 'cause 'cause it's so easy.

You like it my way and I know it.

So let's do it, do it do it real good.

Hot, it's sweaty, now I'm ready.

Just take it off 'cause, 'cause you tease me."

He leaned down to nibble on her ear ever so slightly. "They're right, you know. This is so easy because you do like it my way. I know how much you do, even though you try to push me away, because you try so hard to keep me at a distance. You're afraid of what might happen if you let me get too close, but it is becoming harder to ignore your desire to let me in."

He trailed his fingertips up her sides and back down again to her hips and smirked when he felt her shiver. Her entire back was now pressed tightly against his front, her head tilted back and resting on his shoulder.

"Oh, this song is not for you lovers.

Woah, don't stop, push it now

And I will give it all to you

Don't you stop now

And try to give it all up.

Don't stop, push it now

And I will give it all to you.

Don't you stop now

And try to give it all up.

Don't stop, push it now

And I will give it all to you."

She canted her hips back into his, and the two of them started to sway back and forth to the beat, getting even more hot and heavy as he continued to sing the song breathily into her ear.

"This song is not for you lovers.

This song is not for you lovers.

Woah, don't stop, push it now

And I will give it all to you

Don't you stop now

And try it to give it all up

Don't stop, push it now

Get down and do what you've been told

Don't you stop now

And try to give it all up."

He raised his eyes briefly to look around the dance floor at the grinding bodies before returning to gazing at Violet, her eyes now permanently closed, her mouth slightly open and breathing heavily. The look on her face almost sent him over the edge.

"Look at everyone, Violet. Look at them. You've become them. You're letting go."

He swore he heard her moan.

"Don't stop, push it

Stop, stop, stop, stop

Don't stop, push it

Stop, stop, stop, stop

Don't stop, push it

Stop, stop, stop, stop

Don't stop, push it

Stop, stop, stop, stop"

He started kissing her neck, savoring the taste of her skin and this time he definitely heard her moan. He was pressing her hips so strongly against him he knew there would be fingertip-shaped bruises on her tomorrow, and the thought of her being marked like that – so she couldn't ignore what had happened or the chemistry between them – made him growl. "Don't stop now, Violet. I won't. I can't. I couldn't stop since the first time I laid eyes on you."

"Don't stop, push it now

And I will give it all to you.

Don't you stop now

And try to give it all up.

Don't stop, push it now.

Get down and do what you've been told.

Don't you stop now

And try to give it all up."

The song ended, and he knew he had about five seconds before the haze of lust and fantasy would begin to clear and reality would come crashing down on both of them – Travis probably now frantically looking for the two of them, Gabe drunk as a skunk and hopefully not puking yet, her barriers and broken family, his psychopathy and abusive home life.

Her eyes were already fluttering back open.

He spun her around so that she was facing him, tracing her ridge of her windpipe with one finger all the way up to her chin. Her eyes were still fluttering open and closed, but he could clearly see what was in them.

It was desire.

He thought back about his strategy to get her, to entice her to taste his darkness for herself instead of forcing her, to lead her to the realization that she wanted him regardless of her perceived risks, and he couldn't help but smile.

Curiosity piqued, barriers stripped, and all of her in her glorious beauty and wonder was there right below him, his for the taking.

"Don't you stop now, Violet."

And she leaned in, lips parted.

So he kissed her.

* * *

A/N: Worth the wait, I hope? I know, y'all probably hate me for this cliffie. I do love my cliffies. Reviews are much loved!


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